


Control

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Hotch x Reader / Hotch x You [16]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Angry Sex, Angst, Bathroom Sex, Bisexual Aaron Hotchner, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Competition, Day 14, Day 14 Kinktober, Day 14 Kinktober 2020, Day 14 Kinktober 2020: Public Sex, Day 14 Kinktober: Public Sex, Day Fourteen Kinktober, Day Fourteen Kinktober 2020, Day Fourteen Kinktober 2020: Public Sex, Day Fourteen Kinktober: Public Sex, Day fourteen, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Kinktober 2020: Public Sex, Kintober: Public Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Masturbation in Bathroom, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, One Shot, POV Second Person, Prompt: Public Sex, Public Sex, Quiet Sex, Reader-Insert, Requited Unrequited Love, Rival Sex, Rivalry, Semi-Public Sex, Short One Shot, Smut, Song Lyrics, Song: Control (Halsey), Unrequited Love, Vaginal Fingering, bisexual reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27020236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: You and Hotch have had a rivalry since law school. After meeting up again in court, you both decide to settle the tension in a bathroom stall.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Aaron Hotchner/You
Series: Hotch x Reader / Hotch x You [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862236
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	Control

_"Who is in control?"_

\- "Control," _Halsey_

* * *

You can't exactly say that you hoped to never see Aaron Hotchner again, not since the sex last time was so good. But you still hated him anyway. He was your main rival in law school, always two jumps ahead of you, too determined to fail, never slipping up while also balancing a wonderful relationship with a beautiful girl. You couldn't say the same of your own girlfriend. She became an ex, while Hotch's Haley became a wife.

Well, ex-wife now, last time you fucked Hotch. That was the only way he gave into you, so pent up and sexually frustrated and begging for release. This time, you sensed he was in a similar state again. From across the courtroom he glared daggers at you, and you glared daggers right back. Supposedly, your client was a serial killer. Hotch always hated how you played defense instead of prosecutor, but hey, whatever paid the bills. Your student loans weren't forgiven, and the lifestyle you cultivated wasn't cheap.

When the judge adjourned for lunch, you ambushed Hotch in the men's room. It was probably a bad idea, the kind of stupid shit that could not only get the both of you arrested and your license revoked, but the kind of risk where either your client or the prosecution could walk in at any time. That didn't stop you from snatching Hotch by the knot of his red tie and dragging him into the stall the furthest away from the door.

He'd barely locked the door behind you before you were attacking his mouth with your own. Hotch gave as good as you did, pushing you back against the stall door until he hitched your legs up over his hips, his hands under your ass to support your weight. His fancy agent job must have kept him strong and in shape, which you supposed was yet another thing you could appreciate about his career choice. Of course, you'll always be grateful he decided not to practice. More business for you, and more of a chance to win.

Suddenly, Hotch's mouth descended on your neck where he bit at your skin and whispered in between, "You're defending scum."

"Like I give a shit!" You snarled and ripped at his hair. "Put your mouth to better use."

Hotch fought your grip, jerking back so he could slot his rock-hard erection between your thighs, your clothes and his getting in the way. He started to rut, only serving to tease, as he laughed at you. His laugh was a little too out of breath to be entirely joyful, the sound harsh and ragged, competing with the too little breath in his throat. "I take it you didn't like what I had to say on the stand?"

"Don't play coy with me," you hissed, your hand finding a grip on his jawline. "Or should I say don't profile me? I'm not cut out for that kind of bullshit. It's cheating. You already know me." Your thumb pressed to the seal of his lips, and Hotch finally let you dip inside where he wrapped his lips around you and sucked. Jaw dropping, you managed to shift your moan into a gasp at the last minute.

With a smug smirk you'd love to slap away, Hotch released your thumb. "You never could beat me in court."

Rather than admitting he was right – or admit defeat yet again – you growled and shoved him backwards. He nearly dropped you, but you caught yourself in time, boots dropping to the floor as you followed up your shove with another. Hotch was about to tip backwards into the toilet, but you grabbed his tie and swung him around, reversing your positions. Your hands attacked at his belt and slacks while he stumbled.

You may have already lost the case – even if the decision wasn't final yet – but you'd be damned if you didn't get something out of this day in court. Hotch's cock would have to do.

Hotch did not stand idle either. He let you get his pants undone while his own hands did the same to your slacks. Somehow, he managed to get a hand inside your underwear first, where he found you slick and messy. His only response to that was to let out a pleased little huff, and you growled, "Shut the fuck up."

Finally, your fingers snagged around his cock, which you immediately started pumping at a punishing pace with a death grip. Simultaneously, Hotch's thick fingers pushed in your cunt and matched your rhythm. The both of you stood like that, hunched over the other's hand, nose to nose. Hotch's brown eyes were on fire, that serious brow drawn down low in concentration. He was reluctant to make noise, either because you were in public or because he didn't want to stroke your ego. His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as a gag for his soft grunts.

In comparison, you were hardly in any better shape. You knew that your face was warped in a snarl because no matter how good Hotch made your body feel, you hated that it had to be him that could make you feel these things like no other. It wasn't fair that the man you hated was so beautiful, so successful, and so damn good at making you come. But what you really didn't want to admit, or even acknowledge, was that as much as you hated him, you loved him from the start – and nothing can come from it.

As briefly as Hotch saw you now, which was twice within a year recently, he had all the control. What you were really afraid of is if he knew it, if he could actually read you and see that you were in love with him for some unfathomable reason. You hoped your face didn't betray you with that, so you twisted it into a snarl and used your other hand to snatch his throat again.

Hotch's brown eyes darkened and now he was the one growling at you. He had a longer reach with his arm, so he had no trouble grabbing your own throat right back. Except he wasn't squeezing you like you were him. Instead, Hotch used his grip on you to pull you closer until his lips were on yours again.

His kiss was not gentle as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. On the other hand, quite literally, his multitasking was excellent as he ground the heel of his palm into your clit with his index and middle finger still curling into your cunt. You were almost grateful for the kiss because you could just release your noise into his mouth, where Hotch just gobbled it up as if it were champagne. It was just like when you two were partnered against each other for practice cases; no matter how hard you fought, Hotch could take whatever you gave him.

As you neared completion, you heard the bathroom door swing open. For a moment, your hand stopped jerking his cock and you twisted your face away so you could hear who came in. They were on the phone, talking animatedly, and as the ability to focus came to you through the haze of lust, you could make out the distinct nasal whine of your client. He was bitching about you, about how you were losing the case, how he wanted you fired and replaced before the end of the day.

A jolt of pleasure dashed through your anger immediately as Hotch reminded you of his presence with a brush of his fingers against your g-spot. Your gaze was pulled back to his face like a magnet. Instead of finding pity like you feared, Hotch was looking at you in a way you had never seen before. It was an unrecognizable expression to you, one you weren't comfortable in staring at for too long. Quickly, you dropped your eyes down to where your hand was stuffed in his pants, and you started jerking him off again. Now you just wanted to make him come in his boxers in retribution, to let him sit in it while you finished the case, though you certainly had no desire to try and get your client a better sentence.

With a small choking sound, Hotch caught up to your pace again as he curled his fingers inside of you. This time he focused on your g-spot, determined to make you come with your client only a few feet away, the thin wooden door of the bathroom stall separating you both from public indecency charges. Who knew an FBI agent would like to walk the edge?

In a weird sort of way, you were so glad that your client loved the sound of his own voice because he never stopped talking while you started to whimper. In another way, you hated listening to him when all you wanted to hear was Hotch's deep timbre roll against your ear drums. As it was, you had to settle for Hotch's few stifled groans.

Of course, Hotch won in a sense. You came first, though you were noiseless as you stuffed Hotch's tie in your mouth to bite down on at the last minute. For a moment it felt as if you were suspended in the air, the only thing holding you up being Hotch's fingers in your cunt. Then you felt Hotch's cock spasm in your hand, and as your vision unblurred, you looked up into Hotch's face again to find him staring at the ceiling, panting, throat bared and vulnerable.

Your teeth found his neck before the thought even crossed your mind. Rather than hearing his groan, you felt it travel up his throat and rattle your teeth. The both of you froze in the wake of your orgasms, listening intently to see if your client had any clue of what just transpired. The only thing you heard was the running water of the sink, and then your client was leaving. The clunk of the bathroom door closing signaled his official exit. Only then did you retract your teeth from Hotch's throat and pull away.

This time you avoided looking at him as you pulled your pants back into place. Half-heartedly, you swiped away the wrinkles in your suit. Out of the corner of your eye, you were aware of Hotch doing the same. The front of his slacks – a dark black – did not show any visible stain or wet spot. You were disappointed.

Hotch was in the way, so you had to wait for him to turn around and unlock the door before you could leave the now too-small bathroom stall. He immediately made a beeline for the sinks to wash his hands, but you lingered. You looked at your hand, clean of come since you deliberately avoided touching it, but then you brought it to your face. The scent of sex wafted under your nostrils. Your fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into the tender skin of your palms, before you dropped that hand to your side.

"Stay out of my cases," you told Hotch flatly, and then left before you could have anything else to regret.

What you had missed was Hotch looking at you in the bathroom mirror, his eyes the softest they had been all day. What you didn't know was that Hotch really wanted to ask you to dinner, but didn't know how. What you never noticed was that your feelings weren't quite so one-sided; you had more control over him than you realized.


End file.
